


Date!FAIL, or Detours on the Road to Romance

by Lucifuge5



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifuge5/pseuds/Lucifuge5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It all begins with Frank's call Wednesday night. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Date!FAIL, or Detours on the Road to Romance

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fall 2013 no_tags' prompt of " Mikey/Ray, a blind date goes horribly wrong".
> 
> Warning for non-fatal medical emergency. Thank you to Akamine_chan for betaing this story. All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> ETA: Now with AWESOMECAKES [podfic of WIN](http://archiveofourown.org/works/986565) by Argentumlupine and Cee_m! \:D/!

* * *

It all begins with Frank's call Wednesday night. 

After a long day doing inventory at the store and _everyone_ cancelling tonight's band practice, Ray's not exactly having the best days. He pretty much crumbles into a heap of tiredness and frustration when he gets to his apartment on North Avenue. 

One of the strings snapping when he starts strumming Lil' Sue--his favorite guitar--is the motherfucking cherry on top. So, of course, it isn't until he's about to start replacing the broken string that his phone buzzes. " 'lo?" 

_"Hey, dude! What are you doing home? Don't you guys have practice?"_ Frank says, totally ignoring the sharpness in Ray's greeting. 

"Kitty's doing a double-shift, Travie's still sick as a dog with the flu, and who the fuck knows what happened to Matt. I left him a message on his machine. Whatever."

_"Oh, man, that sucks! You shoulda called me. I'd have come over and jammed with you and shit. It's been forever since we've done that."_

Frank sounds bummed out to the point that Ray feels a twinge of guilt at having been so mean to him. "Nah. Don't worry. I think we're practicing this weekend so, you know, no biggie."

_"Well, give me a call if plans fall through, OK? Anyway, I almost forgot what I was calling you for. So, I've been thinking--"_

"Well, that's a first," Ray jokes as he searches for his string winder in his backpack.

 _"Ha-ha, motherfucker,"_ Frank replies mid-exhale. _"Remember the other night when we were playing Super Mario Galaxy and drinking beer?"_

"Um," Ray puts the string winder next to him and start wrestling the bridge pin out, pressing his phone against his ear with his left shoulder. "Gonna have to be more specific, dude. Everytime we hang out we play videogames and knock back a six-pack."

 _"Fine,"_ Frank says, annoyed. _"I'm talking about last Friday. It was after I'd kicked your ass for the second time in a row? I was telling you about taking Jamia out and you got all down about your lack of a love life?"_

Ray frowns. It's true that he's been single for _a while_. Still, he doesn't remember acting mopey. "Hey, I don't remember acting mopey." 

_"That's only because you got pretty drunk, Toro,"_ Frank says. _"Listen, the point is that I was thinking that maybe it's time for you to, you know, step back into the dating pool. Go out, have a good time, and, maybe, meet someone who will do all the chasing for once."_

"OK, who are you and what have you done with my friend Frank?" Ray knows he's sounding a little defensive. In his experience, not a lot of guys tend to look his way. He's too straight-looking (whatever the fuck that means) for the gay bars and he's yet to meet a guy who's into guys at the straight bars. It sucks, but that's reality and nothing's gonna change that. Still, that doesn't mean he'll let Frank steamroll him. "Pshh, Iero, I do meet a lot of guys at work."

 _"Right,"_ Frank says sarcastically, _"because music stores are a hot bed of romantic encounters and dating potentials. Like, between the high school kids and the much older Led Zeppellin wannabes, you've got a huge dating pool."_

Ray gives into the urge to roll his eyes as he resumes fixing the string. "Yeah, well, I'm done trolling Craigslist or whatever the fuck. I dunno, I guess I'm gonna stay single forever. Be the gay dude version of Bridget Jones or whatever."

Frank shushes him. _"It's been, what? Two years since Brian moved back to England? You've moved on, your heart is all patched up, you still have your good looks and the kind of hair that would wow anyone. Ray, you gotta get out there and see if anyone else catches your eye."_

Something in Frank's tone makes Ray get suspicious. "What do you care if I'm ready to date, anyways?"

 _"I worry because I think you're awesome,"_ Frank answers in the same tone someone would use for 'because water is wet' before he continues. _"Also, because there's a guy you have to meet. He's single, pretty good-looking, and bi. I think you should let him wine you and dine you."_

"Uh-huh." Ray threads the new string through the tune post and starts winding it. He doesn't doubt Frank's good intentions, but it has been a while since he last went out on a date. 

Ray's silence turns out to be too much for Frank. _"All right, all right, Toro."_ He huffs. _"I don't think I told you that my friend moved back from Chicago in April. We hung out at the 666's basement show about a month ago and we got to talking. He asked me if I knew of anyone dateable 'cause, well, it's been about three years since he was last in Belleville? I gave him a couple of numbers and, so far, it's not going too good. And then, I realized it's because music is super important to him, that he's something of a music snob. I got to thinking, 'who else do I know who's a music snob?' So I called you."_

Much as he'd have wanted to deny it, Ray has to inwardly admit that he's very serious about musical tastes. "I see. You think I'm going to be compatible with...what's his name again?"

 _"Mikey,"_ Frank says brightly. 

"You think Mikey and I are going to get along because we have 'opinions' about music?"

 _"Something like that. Don't be so skeptical, Ray. Oh, wait, I don't mean skeptical. What I meant was 'don't be such a chicken, Ray.' "_ Frank giggles for a few beats.

"Reverse psychology isn't going to work on me," Ray says, all the while curious to meet someone who is picky about music as he is. He sighs, defeated. 

Frank speaks fluent Toro-ese because the very next thing out of his mouth is _"How about I give you his number and you guys work your magic amongst yourselves?"_

"Fuck you," Ray hisses, reaching out for a pen and steadily ignoring Frank's victorious _"YES!"_ in the background.

oOo

It's nearly 10 PM by the time Ray gets off the phone with Frank. After weighing the pros and cons, he chooses to wait until the next day to call Mikey. In any case, Ray has to open the store tomorrow (and squeeze in doing at least a load of laundry if he wants to have clean clothes before he goes to work). He can be patient.

Thursday's a little crazy. 

Ray barely makes it to work in time. Today, everyone, it seems, has dreams of being a musician. The doorbell at the very top of the front door doesn't stop jingling until sometime past one in the afternoon. Even Spencer--who usually has endless amounts of energy--is drooping. He waves a white napkin while laying on the floor from in between two drum sets.

"I'm going on break," Ray tells Geoff and Spencer, taking advantage of the momentary lull in the store. He heads to Gino's for a slice of pizza and a Coke, phone in hand, flicking through his texts. A few of them are from Kitty and Travie ("band practice Sun? Y/N?") and some from Frank ("Called him yet?" "Cluck-cluck-cluck").

Common sense would mean waiting until he gets home to call Mikey. The way his day's going, though, Ray thinks he's going to be dead on his feet by the end of his shift. He's got 20 minutes before he has to head back to the store. Better to get this call out of the way. 

His heart's pounding like he's been doing laps around the block when he dials Mikey's number. He taps his feet as the phone rings and rings. _Maybe Mikey doesn't recognize the number_ , he thinks as the call goes to voicemail.

"Hey, it's Mikey. I'm either battling a zombie horde or stuck in an elevator. Leave a message after Bunny's greeting."

Ray's halfway through wondering who or what Bunny is when a grouchy _meow_ plays in the background followed by a beep. "Um, hi! This is, um, Ray? Frank gave me your number. I was wondering if you wanted to go out for coffee or, um, food and coffee? My number is (973) 555-5555. OK? Bye." The phone slips from his hand, but he manages to catch it before it falls to the floor. He's not sure he didn't sound confused on the voicemail. Mostly, he's glad he called.

oOo

The rest of Thursday goes by in a blur and Friday morning is just as busy. Ray's trying not to think too much about the fact that Mikey hasn't returned his call.

Hours later, he goes home, intent on staying in and ignoring any more of Frank's set-ups. Once home, he flops on the living room couch, tuning in to a WWF match, a carton of pork fried rice and another one of pepper steak on the coffee table. Bauer's curled up next to him. 

Feet propped on the corner of the table, Ray's attention isn't really on the match on the TV. He takes a swig of his beer, wishing Frank was around so that he could give him his best glare. 

Ray picks up his phone, ready to write a snarky text he's going to send Frank for trying to set him up with a total flake, when it buzzes.

Bauer wakes up and starts barking nonstop as Ray blinks at the screen:

**Mikey Way**

"Shhh, Bauer," Ray says as he swipes his thumb to unlock it. "Shhh! H-Hello?"

_"Ray?"_

"This is he," Ray answers, his stomach flipping every which way. 

_"Hey, it's Mikey. Erm, Mikey Way? Dude, I'm sorry it's taken me this long to call you back. I'm in San Diego. By the time I got your message, it was, like, one in the morning Belleville time."_ He sounds genuinely apologetic.

"Oh, I--" Ray grimaces. He's not sure what to say. It sucks that Mikey took this long to call him back but, at least, he's apologizing. He opts to go for a little brutal honesty. "I--I thought you weren't interested." 

Mikey sucks his teeth. _"I'm really sorry.. You know, I wanted to text you but I thought that would come across as impersonal since we hadn't talked or met? Sorry for being such a dumbass."_

"OK, apology accepted," Ray says, trusting the pull in his gut that he should give Mikey another chance. "Tsk-tsk, Mikey. Frank goes into hard-mode to set us up and you go travel to other side of the country? What's a guy to think about that, hmm?" 

_"That Frank forgot to mention that I had to go to Comic-Con for work-related reasons?"_

Ray picks up Bauer and starts petting him. Who _is_ Mikey? "Really? What do you do?"

 _"I write comics,"_ Mikey answers. _"It's really dorky, I know, but it's also fun. Gerard and I co-wrote this series called Tales from Zone 6. We did a couple of appearances, doing promo work, that kind of thing. Well, I was also visiting him 'cause he moved to Cali in 2010. We don't hang out as much as we used to."_

"And you were born in Jersey but lived in Chicago?"

 _"Yeah, I lived over there for, like, five years. Soon as I got of college, I said 'sayonara, Belleville" and packed all of my horror DVDs and headed to the Midwest. It was...an adventure,"_ Mikey replies wistful. _"Anyway, what do you do, Ray? Frank mentioned it's music-related?"_

Ray snorts. "If by 'music' you mean selling guitars to people who've never played an instrument, then yeah. I also teach guitar and piano classes."

 _"So you never wanted to be a rockstar?"_ Mikey snarks.

"Well, I do have a band called Boing but it's more of a weekend thing." Ray shrugs. "It's very casual."

 _"What do you play?"_ Mikey's curiosity is palpable.

Ray settles in and starts talking. 

The conversation is easy, running smoothly even when Ray and Mikey disagree on music (Iron Maiden vs. David Bowie: who's the most influential) or movies ( _Jaws_ vs. _Suspiria_ : which one has the best death scenes). They both steer clear of delving into their romantic pasts ( _"It was a bad break-up,"_ is all Mikey says about his last ex. Ray's intrigued but reins in the impulse to find out a little bit more...for now). 

Ray can't remember when was the last time he felt like he had met someone who not only was very interesting but also seemed to be interested back. Three hours later, Ray's phone starts to beep. "Oh, shit! I'm at, like 15%," he says.

 _"We have been talking for a while, haven't we?"_ Mikey says.

"Yeah," Ray answers. He bites his lower lip, trying to figure out how the hell is going to bring up the whole 'date thing'.

 _"Listen,"_ Mikey says after a couple of seconds. _"I know you'd asked me out but I want to make it up to you? There are a couple of interviews Gerard and I have to do and I also want to hang out with him and his family for a little bit longer. I think I'm flying back to Jersey next Monday. How about having dinner with me Tuesday night? My treat."_

"Sure," Ray says. He smiles at nothing in particular. "You wanna meet at the restaurant?"

_"Nah, I'll pick you up. I was thinking of the Green Room over on Madelaine and 4th? They make kickass food."_

"Sounds great. I'll see you Tuesday." 

_"Awesome! Until Tuesday, then. 'night, Ray."_

"Good-night, Mikey," Ray says. He ends the call and does a happy wiggle sitting down. The only witness is Bauer-- who yawns and steps off Ray's lap to continue dozing off on the other side of the sofa.

He shoots off a quick text to Frank:

_Mikey is cool. You're forgiven._

Frank's reply is a link to a gif of a goat headbutting a pile of puppies.

oOo

Ray and Mikey text throughout the weekend. Mikey, Ray finds out, is as big of a wrestling fan as he is.

 _If I'd met you earlier, I'd have taken you to Wrestlemania,_ Mikey texts.

 _There's always the next one,_ Ray texts back.

 _BTW, this is me_ Mikey replies with a link to a picture of a guy wearing a white v-neck t-shirt and dark jeans. His blond hair, shaved on the sides, is slicked back. He's lean and slightly tanned. Facing the camera, his expression is a serious one. The modern black frames of his glasses add a certain mystery vibe that Ray likes a lot.

 _You never told me he was hot!_ Ray texts Frank.

Or, at least, that's who he means to text.

 _Thank you, I'm blushing._ Mikey replies.

Ray wants to hide in a cave and die of embarrassment. He puts his phone away until his lunch break. There aren't any more texts from Mikey and Ray doesn't know what to do about that. Maybe Frank can point the way. 

Frank listens to Ray, throwing "hmms" and "yeahs" every so often. 

"So?" Ray says once he's done. "What should I do? Call him? Pretend I'm so cool I can deal with anything?"

 _"Don't worry about it, Toro. Your date's tomorrow. You've got nothing to worry about,"_ Frank says.

"Because there's no hope?"

_"Nah, dude," Frank replies casually. "Because I already sent him a photo of yours while you were talking."_

"What. The. Fuck? Why would you do that?" The way things are going, Ray's going to have to move somewhere far away. "Seriously, not helping."

_"Oh, Ray," Frank sighs. "Seriously, I'm definitely helping your cause. Knowing you, you'd have probably sent him a photo from, like, high school instead of one where you're looking manly and sexy."_

Ray's almost afraid to ask but, well, he has to know. "So which one did you send him?"

_One from that cookout Jamia and I had when I came back from touring? You look badass, your hair's curly but pretty and you've got this sorta rough stubble that makes all the boys swoon.There's nothing to worry about. Jamia helped me pick it. Trust me, you've got Mikey all revved up and shit."_

"Yeah, well, I don't know about that." Ray mumbles.

 _"Don't worry about it,"_ Frank says. _"Go get him, tiger!"_ He starts to growl.

Ray hangs up with Frank doing some kind of purring in the background and hopes for the best.

oOo

Mikey texts him in the earlier part of the afternoon asking for his address. Ray decides to keep playing it as cool as he can and replies with directions to his apartment building. _Pick you up at 8_ is all that Mikey texts back.

Based on the online reviews, The Green Room falls somewhere below a high class restaurant and the local Olive Garden. Ray struggles with finding something that says "I'm dating material" and "I'm not a slob". He stares at his closet, wondering when was it that his wardrobe became 80% band t-shirts and jeans. 

In the end, he settles for his dressiest pair of jeans, black and fitted, a not-so-faded Iron Maiden t-shirt, and one of his few nice jackets. His shoes are polished, he's clean-shaven and he feels generally good with some nervousness mixed in. 

His phone rings a few minutes before 8. "Hi."

 _"Hey,"_ Mikey says. _"I'm downstairs. You ready for a delicious dinner?"_

"Always," Ray says, relaxed at last. "I'll be right down." He pets Bauer and checks himself before leaving his apartment.

Mikey waves at Ray from inside his car. 

Ray grins back. "Hey, nice to meet you." He extends his right hand.

"Same here," Mikey says, giving Ray a side smile that's pretty charming. He takes Ray's hand and gives him a firm shake. "OK, let's go." He lets go of Ray's hand and releases the brake.

"Did you have a hard time finding my place?" Ray isn't a huge fan of small talk, but he doesn't want to distract Mikey.

"Hmm?" Mikey makes a left turn. "Oh, nope. One of my high school friends used to live in this area."

Ray slips into easy backstory talk. It's funny how many people have known both Mikey and Ray at the same time and yet they hadn't crossed paths until now. He keeps looking at Mikey while they talk, being mindful not to _stare_ because, he doesn't want to be tagged with being 'a creeper'. Mikey wears a pair of blue jeans and a dark blue polo shirt. He looks edible. Ray wants to smack himself for jumping way far ahead.

"Earth to Ray. Come in, Ray," Mikey says, good-naturedly.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Ray feels his face grow hot. He hopes Mikey didn't notice his ogling. "You were saying?"

"Ah, just reminiscing about Belleville High." Mikey winks and Ray feels the blush on his face intensify.

oOo

The restaurant isn't crowded (which is great) and the menu is not ultra fancy (ditto). Ray lets Mikey order the appetizer ("It's a really tasty bruschetta," he says enthusiastically) as he takes in his surroundings.

"So tell me about _Tales from Zone 6_ ," Ray says while they wait for the bruschetta. "I read a couple of online reviews and, I gotta say, I'm impressed."

Mikey tilts his head down. He scratches the back of his neck. "It's funny. I mean, because I never thought I'd be writing comics."

"How did it started?"

"Well," Mikey says, "it was all Gerard's idea."

The waiter brings the bruschetta a few minutes later. 

"They're _to die for_ ," Mikey says when Ray picks one up.

The sauce is spicy and, yes, Mikey is right, the flavors are intense. Ray has two more pieces, listening to Mikey talk about the comics industry. Everything's going well.

Which, of course, is the moment when things go down in flames.

oOo

Mikey's halfway through a story about seeing the Smashing Pumpkins at the Garden when Ray starts feeling funny. The room seems to have grown hotter. He keeps his jacket for as long as he can stand it.

"You OK? You look a little flushed." Mikey frowns.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," Ray answers. "Just need some cold water, that's all." He clears his throat.

"Here, have mine." Mikey slides his glass over. 

Ray picks it up and drinks half of it in one gulp. "Thanks," he says, clearing his throat again. All he wants is to take a dip in a pool or a lake or anywhere there's cool water. "Maybe I'll take my jacket off, yeah?" It's not until he places his forearms on the table that he figures out what's _wrong_.

"Jesus, Ray!" Mikey's gaze is on the skin on Ray's arms, the hives spreading over it, red and angry and, now that they're both looking at them, itchy as fuck.

" 's an allergic reaction," Ray replies, his voice turning wheezy at the end. "I'll be OK. Just let me get my epi--Oh, fuck."

To his credit, Mikey remains calm. "Your epi-pen. Where is it?"

Ray tries to keep as mellow as he can. "My epi-pen. Um, it's been a while...my car?"

"OK, that's too far," Mikey says as he signals their waiter. He takes out a $20 and drops it on the table. "This should cover the appetizer, don't bother with anything else, I have to take my date to the hospital," he tells the waiter as he helps Ray up.

"I can walk," Ray grumbles while fighting the 800-pound gorilla that's squeezing his chest.

"I know you can," Mikey says. "But all I want you to do is to concentrate on your breathing, OK?"

By the time they make it back to Mikey's car, Ray's wheezing has intensified. Mikey unlocks the passenger door, helps Ray into his seat, puts on his seatbelt and quickly jogs to the driver door. He starts his car up and asks Siri to tell him how to get to the nearest hospital.

"So, what are you allergic to, Ray?"

Ray's tired. This is his worst allergy attack in years. Figures it'd happen while he's out with a hot date. He takes as deep of a breath as he can before replying something that vaguely sounds like "penis".

Eyes half-closed, he sees Mikey mouthing the word until he jumps up. 

"Ah, _peanuts_. You're allergic to peanuts." Mikey shakes his head. "You had me worried there for a moment."

Ray tries to chuckle but he ends up coughing which leads to less air in his lungs. 

"Don't worry, Ray. I'm not going to let you die before I even have the chance to kiss you," Mikey says as he zooms past a red light.

oOo

Ray doesn't remember much about that night. He knows Mikey took him to Belleville General and that he got his shots because he's woken up somewhere that isn't his house. The lack of fluorescent lighting means he's not in the hospital.

"Oh, good, you're awake," Mikey says from somewhere far away.

Still a little drowsy, Ray tries his hardest to focus. "Where--?"

"Where are you? Um, you're at my place? I live on a first floor and you're too big for me to drag all the way to your apartment. After the hospital, you were kind of, um, _loopy_. I guess they gave you some really good stuff," Mikey answers with a raised eyebrow.

"How bad--?"

"Was it?" Mikey makes a so-so gesture. "Nothing really horrible. The only funny part was when you kept trying to pinch my butt and mumbling something about 'lickable'. Gotta say, I'm flattered. But then, you passed out cold once I got you under the sheets. I don't know how to feel about that." He does an exaggerated pout that makes Ray snort.

" 's not like that." He blinks slowly, willing his brain to wake the fuck up so he doesn't miss out on anything.

Mikey drops his gaze. "But I'm also feeling horrible. I'm sorry that I nearly poisoned you."

"No biggie," Ray says, flopping his hand when he tries to wave Mikey's guilt away. "Should've taken my pen with me." He tries to shrug but ends up yawning instead. "Kiss it better?"

Mikey looks at Ray and then nods, taking off his glasses. Three short steps later, he leans over Ray. "OK, sleeping beauty, pucker up."

Ray closes his eyes and gets ready for his kiss.

THE END


End file.
